


Glory and Gore

by QueenTheirins



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Tragedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTheirins/pseuds/QueenTheirins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes the greatest tragedies make the strongest heroes."</p>
<p>All Bridget Cousland ever wanted was to take up arms and defend her home from those that wished to threaten it. She would get her wish, though it was far from what she expected. Join her in her quest to unite a land on the brink of civil war as she must convince everyone of the greater threat that exists: the return of the Darkspawn and the Arch Demon that leads them. Will Bridget be successful in her journey and bring justice to the man that betrayed her family? Or will she fall and fail those around her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Greatness from Small Beginings

Chapter 1

Greatness from Small Beginnings

Cloudreach 9:20 Dragon,

Highever

 

  The sun rose in the Eastward sky, basking the citizens of Highever in a warm glow. The coast city did not experience much warm weather throughout the year, so when it came, the townsfolk took full advantage of it. Children escaped the confines of their home and ran through the cobblestoned streets, chasing each other and filling the air with laughter. The adults took the warm weather to their advantage as well and readied their fishing nets and poles to bring in food and income to their homes and families. Cloudreach was a time of great merriment. The harsh winter Ferelden always has had finally slipped away and the flowers were on the verge of waking up from their dormant slumber. Those that lived atop the cliff in the mighty castle that overlooked all of Highever were also enjoying the warm weather. Teyrn Bryce Cousland’s guardsmen were out in their training grounds, standing at attention and listening intently to what their “general” had to say.

 “Alright men, we have to go and save Fergus from the dragon that has taken him. This will not be an easy task. Some of you may die. Or lose a limb or two. But know that your sacrifices will be honored and remembered! Are we ready to slay this dragon?” Bridget Cousland shouted.

 “Aye!” the four off duty guards shouted in response.

Normally when the men were off, they liked to hold up in their quarter’s playing cards and bragging about any of their latest conquests they had made. Today, however, Matthew, Adam, Willem, and Gilmore found themselves playing ‘war’ with the Teyrn’s ten year old daughter. While they had rather be doing other things…each of the men had a very difficult time denying the young Cousland anything, especially Willem and Gilmore. They were the two youngest guards her father had, and were still in training themselves. But they both dropped anything they were doing half of the time in order to spend time with Bridget. She placed her hands behind her back and paced in a line.

 “Good. Highever is grateful to have brave men such as you holding our flag and defending the homeland. Now, let’s go and save my brother!”

The men beat on their wooden shields and shouted in agreement. Bridget placed a helm on her head, which wasn’t very effective as it was too big for her. Regardless, she picked up her wooden sword and shield (as she wasn’t allowed to have a real sword) and led the men across the courtyard to where an unhappy Fergus was tied to a pillar.

 “I don’t know why you can’t play with dolls like other girls your age.” He mumbled as she approached him.

Zeus, her Mabari pup, played the part of the fierce dragon. He sat and guarded Fergus like a Hawke, but when his mistress appeared, the hound barked happily and wagged what little bit of a tail he had. Bridget raised her sword and pointed it at Zeus.

 “Fierce dragon, I ask that you do not harm my brother! Surrender him to us and we will not harm you! But if you hurt him, we will be forced to slay you!” she shouted.

Zeus tipped his head to the side as he contemplated his mistress’s words before he leapt towards her and knocked her flat on her back. Bridget’s helm rolled away in the dust as she giggled.

 “Ah! The beast has attacked your commander! Men, help her!” Bridget cried.

But her guardsmen were all overcome with laughter and had dropped their weapons. They stood holding their sides and chuckling loudly.

 “Zeus! You’re supposed to be a deadly dragon! Stop it!” she laughed.

They caused such a fuss that her father, Bryce and his good friend, Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine, emerged from the nearby doors and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

 “Heh, I say, your daughter appears to be enjoying the weather.” Howe remarked.

As the Teyrn came into view, his guardsmen all stood at attention. Zeus finally stopped licking Bridget’s face and hopped off of her and she scrambled to her feet. Not noticing her father, she let the men have it.

 “You four are absolutely awful guardsmen! You left your general to fight the dragon all by herself! I could have been killed and then so would Fergus! You just let Highever’s only two heirs die! Your duty is to protect us, not laugh at us!”

Willem and Gilmore shook their heads.

 “Forgive us, Milady. When the ‘fierce dragon’ happens to be your pup, it’s difficult for us to see the real danger. We promise that in any real threat, we would defend you to the very last man!” Willem stated, his dark curls falling into his eyes.

Gilmore nodded.

“Agreed!” he stated as he ran a hand through his copper locks.

Bryce and Howe chuckled.

“I should hope that in any real event you would protect my dear daughter.” Bryce said jokingly.

Bridget looked at him and blushed as he approached her. The young Cousland technically wasn’t supposed to be outside right now, as her mother had ordered a fitting for her this morning. Bryce sighed as he swept his eyes over his daughter. Her golden blonde hair was matted and dirt covered her back and face. She also had a fine coat of Zeus’ saliva covering her. Bridget wouldn’t look at him because she knew good and well her mother was probably looking for her up and down the castle. Bryce lifted her chin with his fingertips so he could stare into her bright blue eyes.

 “Your mother has been looking for you, Pup. I don’t think she’s going to be happy to know that you need another bath today. What shall I tell her?”

Bridget crossed her arms and pouted.

 “I don’t want to go inside! I want to stay out here and play war with Willem and Gilmore!” she stated.

Howe raised his eyebrows.

 “I daresay your daughter should have been born a boy, Bryce!” Howe chuckled.

Bridget looked at him and frowned.

 “I ‘daresay’ you should keep your opinions to yourself.” She grumbled.

Bryce’s eyes widened.

 “Bridget, mind your tongue!”

But Howe only chuckled.

“Oh that is quite alright, Bryce. That’s her mother coming out of her. It is good that she isn’t afraid to stand up to someone who is bigger than her. My comment was not appropriate, I apologize Milady.”

Bridget looked at him but didn’t say anything. She returned her attention back to her father who was smiling at his young daughter. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and chuckled.

 “What will I ever do with you?”

Bridget shrugged.

 “I do not know…you could get me a real sword and train me! I want to fight and defend our castle, Papa! Won’t you let me have a real sword and carry a shield with our crest on it? Please? You know I’ve never fancied wearing dresses and playing with dolls like Elizabeth and the other noblemen’s daughters. I want to be outdoors and practicing my skills against any who wishes to test them!”

Bryce ran his hand over his daughter’s hair. Truthfully, he had been considering that very thing. He could tell that she was happiest when she was outside with the other men, either watching them train or being allowed to whack a straw practice dummy here and there. He figured it wouldn’t be too difficult convincing Eleanor that this was the path Bridget wanted to take. After all, Bryce would much rather see her learning how to defend herself and be independent than have her marry at sixteen and be with child not even a year later. Deep down, he believed that that is what Eleanor wanted as well.

 “We shall see. You should run along to your mother now though, you wouldn’t want to make her angry.”

Bridget sighed and nodded. She whistled for Zeus and together, they both ran into the castle. Bryce turned to his men and thanked them for fufilling Bridget’s wishes and for untying Fergus who was still frowning. He approached s father.

 “Father, please give her a sword for Maker’s sake? I am so tired of being tied to random things throughout this castle!” he exclaimed.

Bryce chuckled.

 “You could always tell her you don’t have time to play right now.” He suggested.

Fergus rolled his eyes.

 “Come on, Father. You know she’s impossible to refuse. I pity her future husband. She’ll have him wrapped around her finger so tight the man probably won’t make any decisions for himself!”

With that, Fergus stormed off back into the castle. He was at a difficult age at fifteen, but was a good boy nonetheless. As Matthew and Adam returned to their duties, Willem and Gilmore began sparring with each other. Bryce turned back to Howe as they began walking back to the main hall.

 “Your daughter appears to be very set in her ways, Bryce. Why not train her as a warrior? It would be…impractical I suppose, but the girl does seem very passionate about it.”

Bryce nodded and set his hands behind his back. The main hall was a large room that was decorated in tapestries and portraits of the Cousland family. A few plants stood proudly in dusty corners of the room and there were two elven servants who were cleaning the walls and floors. Sunlight spilled in from the paned windows and washed the stone walls and floors in a yellow-orange glow. Even though Castle Cousland was rather old, the rooms were still light and airy.

 “I have thought of this as well…I am actually considering hiring a sword-master for her.” Bryce said as they continued down the hall to his study.

Howe raised his eyebrows.

 “Oh? Anyone I am familiar with? I heard the man that is training King Maric’s son is quite talented; though I am sure he is far too busy with the royal family to have two students.” He stated.

Bryce shook his head as he entered his office. He moved to sit behind his oak desk and Howe sat in front of him and gazed at the portrait of Bryce that hung behind his chair. He was younger in the portrait, but still held a commanding presence. A commanding presence that Howe believed his friend had lost over the years.

“No, you do not know of him. His name is Percival Deapardeux. He is one of the most prolific swordsmen in Orlais.”

Howe looked at Bryce and was quiet for a moment.

“Did I just hear you correctly? You are hiring an Orlesian to teach your daughter?”

Bryce nodded.

 “Yes…why do you ask?”

Howe gaped at him.

 “Are you forgetting the great war we fought with those filthy mongrels?”

Bryce narrowed his eyes.

 “That war ended several years ago, Howe. The Orlesians are our allies now. You cannot still hold ill will towards them?”

 “I hold ill will against anyone who slaughters my friends.” Howe quipped.

Bryce shook his head.

 “That was in the past, Howe. Yes, they did terrible things, but we did too. But the war is over now. It is time we put aside our differences and open our borders to them without looking upon them with disdain. Our families were once pitted against each other, but look at us now. I consider you my friend and brother. Don’t you think it’s time to quell the rage in your heart?”

Howe frowned and crossed his arms.

 “Say what you will, I still do not agree with it. Make sure he doesn’t teach her how to cut your throat in the night. If I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open, especially if you plan to board him here.”

Bryce folded his hands in front of his face and sighed.

 “Your opinion has been noted. I realize you say what you do out of concern, and I appreciate that…but it is time to put aside your differences and accept the fact that the Orlesians are not just going to disappear.” Howe rolled his eyes and stood.

 “No, it appears they won’t, especially if you’re going to place one right under your nose.” He stated.

With that, Howe exited the room and left Bryce alone with his thoughts. Bryce didn’t regret his decision, however. By fighting the Orlesians for as many years as he did, he was able to study their combat tactics. Whereas most Fereldans ran head first into battle, the Orlesians treated it more like a dance. They were graceful and quick on their feet, not hard and clunky like most men. That is the way he wanted Bridget to learn how to fight. Yes, sometimes she would need to be clunky and centered, but if she learned how to fight like the Orlesians…she may stand a better chance in battle. After all, they knew many things that Bryce and other Fereldans did not. Bryce grabbed some parchment and a quill and began to pen a letter to Ser Deapardeux. Hopefully this man did not have any ill feelings towards Ferelden and would gladly teach Bridget all that he knew. He was one of the best swordsmen in Orlais, an expert with the sword and shield as well as dual weaponry. Bryce knew he had to have numerous skills to pass on to any willing student, and he knew Bridget would soak up every lesson as the flowers soak in the rain water and sunlight. He just hoped that the man was available and held no grudges against Ferelden. After all…many old warriors, like Howe, still did…

xXx

 “And just when were you going to consult me on this?” Teyrna Eleanor Cousland demanded.

Bryce had recently received Pecival’s reply about teaching Bridget the ways of the sword. He was thrilled to have her as a student and stated that he would arrive within a fortnight to teach the young Cousland all he knew. In the weeks that followed his letter, however, Bryce had failed to mention his plans to his wife, who was very disturbed by the thought of her daughter being surrounded by men all day.

“Ser Deapardeux is an expert, my love. He will train Bridget separately from the other men. You know that this will make her happy. Our daughter is not traditional. And I for one do not want her married in six years and her belly swollen with a child. I remember you once being very skilled with a bow yourself, after all.”

Eleanor crossed her arms and sighed.

“Yet it was the softer arts that made you fall in love with me, was it not?”

Bryce chuckled and stood. He walked towards his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Honestly, no. I did not care if you knew how to sew holes in my shirts or if you could carry a tune. What I love most about you, my dear wife is your independent and stubborn soul. I remember you once could work a bow just as good as any man. And let’s not forget that we shared our first kiss after a sparring match…”

Eleanor smiled at the memory and looked up at her husband.

“Oh alright, you’ve made your point. Perhaps it will be good for Bridget to learn how to properly defend herself. She will hopefully have children someday that she will need to learn how to protect…after all, we women can’t rely on you men all the time.”

Bryce threw his head back and laughed heartily.

 “That’s exactly right! All the more reason she should learn. My only concern is that Fergus may grow jealous. While he has his own sword-master…Tobias is not quite as skilled as Ser Percival.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“Oh I don’t believe you need to worry about Fergus. He’s been very preoccupied trying to woo that young Antivan girl in the village. Her father is a very rich trader, or so I hear. Perhaps we should invite her family to dine with us soon?”

Bryce drew his brows together.

“He’s only fifteen, love. Give him at least another year. After all, we didn’t marry until we were sixteen and eighteen.”

Eleanor sighed.

“Yes, I realize that. But I still believe we should invite them. If our son is anything like you were at that age, he’ll be whispering sweet nothings into that girl’s ear in no time. You Cousland men do have a way with words, after all. Your father was the biggest charmer I’ve ever met.”

Bryce grinned.

 “That he was. Very well, if you wish to invite them then we will have them. Ser Percival should be arriving within the next few weeks, we need to prepare the castle and welcome him with open arms.”

And they did. A few weeks later, Bryce, Eleanor, Fergus and Bridget stood in the main hall waiting for Percival to arrive. Bryce had still not told his daughter that she would begin studying swordplay, so she just assumed that this was another one of her father’s guests and that she had to act like the little lady she was. The doors to the hall opened and a young elven servant entered, followed by another man. He was tall and lean, yet his thin stature belied how much strength he possessed. Ser Percival Deapardeux looked every bit like Bryce imagined he would. He was certainly Orleasian, that you could tell by his dress. He wore fine clothes made of silk and had a very ornate blade hanging by his waist in a decorative scabbard. He wore his light brown hair long and kept it pulled back in a tight ponytail. His skin looked as if it had been kissed by the sun and carried wrinkles. A warrior always looked older than they actually were, and this was true for Ser Percival. He was nearing fifty years of age, but he looked as if he were past that. He carried sharp grey eyes, but they were kind. His nose was long and fit his thin face well, as did his lips that were curved into a small, polite smile. Upon reaching the family, he bowed gracefully.

 “Ser Percival Deapardeux at your service, Teyrn Bryce Cousland. I thank you for allowing me to stay with you and for trusting me with the education of your child.”

Bryce stepped forward and shook Percival’s hand.

 “It is a pleasure to have you with us, Ser. Allow me to introduce my wife and son.”

Bridget sighed as her father continued the introductions. She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. She wanted to find Willem and Gilmore to see if they could teach her any new techniques they had learned and was itching to get out of her dress and wear something more comfortable.

 “And this is my daughter, your new pupil, Bridget.”

Bridget’s attention was suddenly caught. She looked up at her father with wide eyes.

 “You have another new teacher for me? What else is there for me to learn, Papa?” she groaned.

Bryce chuckled and knelt down towards her.

 “Ser Percival is not going to teach you history or anything like that, my dear. You have your teacher for that. This man is going to teach you how to,”

Percival cleared his throat and smiled down at Bridget.

 “I will teach you any and everything you need to know to best your enemies. I will teach you how to wield a sword and a shield, how to use twin daggers as one, and how to defend yourself and others. I will teach you how to live. I will teach you how to survive. I will not treat you any differently than my previous students because of your sex or the position you hold in society. You are my student, simple as that. If you heed what I say and pay attention to my lessons, you will become a very skilled swordswoman. But I need to know that this is what you truly want. Will you spend the long grueling hours training in the harsh sunlight? Will you spend them outside in the cold of winter? Will you continue even when you are beaten? And trust me; you will not defeat me for quite some time. I need to know that you want this with every fiber of your being. I do not teach weak minded individuals. You either have the strength and perseverance to learn this art…or you do not. What say you, Lady Cousland? Can you take up arms under the command of an Orleasian? Or can you not?”

Bryce raised his eyebrows, not knowing if his daughter understood all that Percival said, but when he shifted his eyes to her, he saw determination etched into her face and resolve held in her eyes.

 “I can!” she stated proudly.

Percival lips curled up into a smile.

“Excellent. We will begin training immediately. Go and change into something you can actually move in and meet me in the courtyard. I will start you off with a wooden sword and when I feel you are ready, we will progress to other weaponry.”

Bridget grinned and nodded. She threw her arms around Bryce and hugged him tightly.

 “Thank you so much, Papa! I will not let you down!” she exclaimed.

With that, she hurried away. Bryce looked at Percival.

 “It is good to know that you will not discriminate against her because of her high birth but…you will not hurt her, am I understood?”

Percival raised a brow and placed his hands behind his back.

 “No child will ever learn something without making mistakes along the way. Those mistakes in battle could cost your daughter her life or someone else’s. I will teach her just as I have taught my other students. She is not the first lady I have taught. The others sported bruises, but that was due to their own follies. I cannot give her the impression that she will not be hurt while training because that is not how it works in real life. I will not let her bleed, however. I can promise you that.”

Bryce opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and nodded. Percival did have a point. A bruise now could prevent a severe wound later. Soon enough, Bridget returned wearing a pair of dark green leggings, leather boots, a linen shirt with a belt, and had her hair pulled back to keep it out of her eyes. Bryce led them both to the courtyard and then left. In his heart of hearts, he knew this was the right decision. He just hoped that Bridget would truly soak up everything that he had to teach her.

 “Choose your weapon.” Percival stated as he presented her with three different choices. All made of wood. There was a sword and shield, daggers, and a bow. Bridget immediately picked up the sword and shield, but frowned.

 “Wood again…when do I get to use real weaponry?” she asked.

Percival withdrew a wooden sword and shield for himself and shook his head.

 “You think a wooden sword is ineffective? Not true. I killed a man with a wooden sword once and knocked out another one. Do not underestimate the power of something just by the way it looks. That goes for weapons as well as opponents. Just because someone is small and lean does not mean they will be quick and graceful. On the other side of the coin, just because someone is large and muscular does not mean that they will be slow with their strikes. It is best that you learn this now. Demonstrate to me what techniques you do know on that straw dummy.” He stated.

Bridget walked towards the nearby dummy. She took a deep breath as she felt nerves enter her stomach. She began swinging her blade this way and that. Percival frowned.

 “You lack direction. Your strikes are erratic when they should be calculated. A real opponent will not just stand there, my dear. In the time it takes you to pull your blade back and swing again, your enemy could already have you impaled on their blade. Also don’t stand in one place for too long. It’s important that you always keep moving. Stand still for too long and an enemy could cut you down by your shins. Treat a battle as if you are performing an intricate dance. Make sure that your body never stills, not until you and your companions are the last ones on the field. Allow me to demonstrate some techniques for you.”

Bridget watched eagerly as Percival slowly began to show her his skills.

 “Think of your sword as just an extension of your arm. Let it move with you like this.” He stated as he swung his sword gracefully throughout the air.

 “And remember, your shield is not just for protection. You can use it to bash your enemies and knock them down, like so.”

He bashed the straw dummy once, then twice, then swung his sword and stopped short of decapitating it.

 “Use your shield to stun them and finish them off with your blade. However, if your shield is made of steel and you hit them hard enough, you may be able to kill them with it. Do what I just did.”

He stated. Bridget copied Percival’s actions, yet he still found faults with her stance.

 “Put your feet a little further apart. Your stance is everything. If you do not have a commanding presence, your foes will take you down easily. If your feet are not securely placed, you will be easily knocked over. Especially with as barbaric as some of you Fereldans fight.”

Bridget moved her feet as Percival suggested and tried again. They continued until dusk was settling over the castle. Bridget’s arms and legs were extremely sore, and she didn’t care for how Percival always seemed to find fault with everything she did. She held her tongue, however, knowing that he was just trying to help her. And he did. Every day after their first meeting, Percival trained Bridget for six hours a day. He taught her numerous techniques from different stances, to how to hold her blade effectively. Percival supplied her with scrolls that detailed different sword techniques and how to properly use her shield for protection, and as a weapon. Bridget thought for sure that she would graduate to use a steel sword soon, but it actually took her an entire year before Percival allowed her to use one. The sword he supplied her with was not ornate either, but average and rather dull.

 “You’ll get a fancier sword later on, but for now this will do.” He had said.

Bridget trained. She trained hard. She listened and studied any and everything her master taught her and as the years passed, Bridget’s confidence grew. She learned to swing her blade with precision and accuracy. She knew how to decapitate a man cleanly, how to make sure her blade would not become stuck in a man’s chest, and she also learned how to sharpen and care for her weapons. Percival taught her to treat her blades like young babes. They needed love and care. He showed her how to properly sharpen her blades, how to reinforce a simple wooden shield if she did not have anything stronger. He also taught her how to take care of her armor and what was appropriate for her to wear to give her the best protection, but that would not hinder her movements. When she was fourteen, Percival began to teach her how to use twin daggers. Again he presented her with three choices; this time however, he began with real blades.

 “Choose wisely. Each set is used differently.”

Bridget gazed down at the weapons. The first sets of daggers were long and thin. They almost looked like mini rapiers. The second set was curved slightly and had jeweled handles. The third set looked like smaller versions of the blade she was already using. Bridget chose the first set.

Percival nodded.

 “Good choice. The middle pair is not native to this country and would be difficult to replace if something happened to it. The last pair is very similar to the blade you use now, only in dagger form. But this set…this set is good. In Orlais we name our weapons. The set you have picked up is called Force et Vigueur, meaning strength and vigor.”

Bridget picked them up and inspected them closely.

 “Why are you training me in daggers as well as my sword and shield?” she asked curiously.

Percival replaced the other daggers back on the table in the armory and looked over his shoulder at her.

 “Because there will be times when you need to get in close, and that is where daggers will be an asset. They are to be treated just as you treat your sword and shield. But instead of thinking of them as two separate blades, think of them as one blade that has been sliced down the middle. They are two halves of a whole. Treat them that way. You swing one blade, you swing the other. They move together, never against. Daggers, particularly these daggers, are made for slicing. They are thin, yes, but they cut deep. Slice a man’s throat with this and he will bleed out. I am teaching you how to use other forms of weaponry other than a sword and shield because swords and shields are very conspicuous, yes? There may be times were you may be forced to be unarmed…however, you can always conceal a dagger or two strapped to your leg. Never go anywhere unarmed, my dear. That was the mistake my father made.”

Over the years, Percival and Bridget became very close, so close that he mentioned to Bryce one evening that she was as close to a daughter as he would ever have. Over time, he began to open up about his past to his young pupil. His father fought in the Frelden and Orlesian war, and he was killed in a most horrible fashion. He was tricked into thinking that he was to attend the signing of a peace treaty, when it really was just a ruse to get Orlais’ top generals all into a room together. A blood bath ensued and while some of the generals were able to escape, Percival’s father was not. He was killed and his head was sent to Empress Celene as a message that the Fereldans were not ready to give up. Percival never uttered the name of the man who killed his father, however. He said that it was bad luck to do so. But as Bridget got older, she noticed that whenever Arl Howe visited her family that Percival became very quiet and always seemed to glare at the Arl.

When she was younger, Bridget assumed that it was just because Howe was very open in his distaste for the Orlesians, but as she grew older; her original thought began to change. When she was sixteen, she questioned Percival about it as they ate lunch together under the large oak tree in the courtyard. The flowers were in full bloom and there was a light breeze in the air. The sun was shining brightly in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. Bridget finished an apple and was fixing her leather armor as Percival answered her inquiry.

 “Your mind is sharp, little bird. That is good to know. Its one thing to be able to dual a man with a sword, but it is a different thing entirely when you are battling someone’s wit. To answer your question, yes. Arl Rendon Howe played a part in my father’s death. ‘Twas his own father that killed mine. I hold no ill will against Arl Rendon…even though his distaste for me is clear. It is difficult to look at him, however, and not see his father. Anger is petty, however. And it can cloud ones judgment so badly that one may not think clearly. I have learned that emotions tend to make people sloppy. Best to keep them in check when in battle, young one. Men make awful mistakes sometimes when in love or when they have suffered great losses. Don’t be one of those people that do.”

 “Aye, Ser.” Bridget replied.

As the years continued to drift by, Bridget learned more and more. She bested many of her father’s men in combat, especially Willem and Gilmore, who were so shocked that the young girl they used to play war with was now a fierce warrior who was very capable of leading them into the very battles they used to make up. Soon, Bridget was even able to match her brother’s skill, and even her father’s. He beamed at her proudly as he watched her and Percival train and spar. He could tell when she became frustrated with the man, but admired her ability to keep going. Eleanor was proud of her daughter too. Bryce knew he had made the right decision and knew that his daughter would be a force to be reckoned with.

There was something, however, that Bryce, nor any of the Cousland family knew. Throughout the years, a deep and envious hatred began to brew within someone close to them…and as whispers began to spread that dark things were emerging from the Deep Roads, the noblemen of Ferelden were asked to gather their armies and send them to Ostagar to fight this Blight with good King Cailan. The air was turning cold and with Old Man Winter’s breath came a chill of unease in the air. Something was coming…and that something would change Bridget Cousland’s life forever. As a child, all she wanted was to take up arms and defend her home from those that wished to threaten it. As a young adult, she would get to do just that…though she never thought it would be against someone so close to her heart...and her home. Her father always said that she was destined for greatness, and she was. Bridget’s destiny would be filled with great tragedy and sorrow…but tragic histories can make the strongest of heroes.


	2. The Arl's Betrayal

Chapter 2

The Arl’s Betrayal

Kingsway 9:30 Dragon

Highever

The early morning sunlight spilled in through the parts in the curtained windows of Bridget’s room. The light illuminated and warmed her face and caught the shadows that were on the floor and walls for a brief dance. Bridget took a deep breath and drew her brows together as she licked her lips. She was having an interesting dream that she wasn’t ready to wake up from yet, but as she felt a warm arm slide over her and hug her tight, her eyes fluttered open.

She smiled.

“You stayed?” she asked huskily, her voice low since she was still waking up.

She felt her partner breathe in the scent of her hair deeply before placing a kiss to her shoulder. His stubble tickled her skin and made her smile wider.

“Of course I stayed. I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.”

Bridget turned over to face Willem. He smiled at her sweetly and placed a chaste kiss to the wing of her nose.

“Happy birthday, love.” He whispered.

Bridget chuckled as she brushed his dark, curly locks out of his deep green eyes.

“Thank you. I’m nearly as old as you now.” She replied.

Willem raised an eyebrow.

“Oh please, I’m only four years your senior. But I say, since it is your birthday, should we not celebrate?” he asked as he rolled over her and kissed her slowly.

Bridget smiled against his lips before she broke the kiss and shook her head.

“You and I celebrated quite enough last night, or have you already forgotten?”

Willem smiled a downright roguish grin and said,

“Darling, I will never forget that. Some of it is a little hazy, though. Would you mind jogging my memory?”

Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again before pulling back and shaking her head.

“Your shift is starting soon and if you’re seen, father will,”

Willem bowed his head in defeat.

“Have my head, yes I know. Very well, I’ll be off, but…shall I return tonight?” he asked as he slid off of her and began to dress.

Bridget propped herself up on her elbow and tipped her head to the side.

“Do you really have to ask?”

Willem’s lips curved up into a smile as he pulled on his shirt.

“I suppose not, no.” He sat on the edge of her bed to lace up his boots. Bridget watched him contentedly as he stood.

He walked towards her door and looked over his shoulder.

“Until tonight then, see you soon, love.”

Willem opened the door just as Bridget’s handmaiden, Aravae, was about to knock. Bridget bit her lip and drew her brows together as she watched all the color drain from Willem’s face.

“Oh, uh…hello there. I was ah…just checking in on our dear Lady Cousland. She heard something and um…”

Aravae raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

“Be grateful you’re a good swordsman, Willem, because you are a terrible liar. You and I both know that Lady Bridget is capable of defending herself. Go on now, and be grateful Nan wasn’t the one that was coming to tend to her this morning.”

Willem bowed his head and hurried past her. Aravae entered the room carrying a bucket of steaming hot water and closed the door behind her. Bridget had buried her face in her hands from embarrassment and was peeking at her elven maiden through her fingers.

“Promise you won’t tell father?” she asked.

Aravae walked into the washroom to begin drawing Bridget’s bath.

“Aye, I won’t say anything. But you should really limit your escapades with Ser Willem, Milady. Explaining a swollen belly to your father would be a very awkward task, I imagine.”

Bridget nodded and stood as she walked into the washroom behind Aravae.

“Yes, I know. We are careful, though.”

Aravae didn’t say anything as she retrieved some towels and soaps. She placed them nearby, so Bridget could easily reach them once she was in the basin.

“If you say so. Just try to be a little more discreet. I actually ran into your father on the way up here, he wishes to see you once you’re finished here.”

Bridget slid off her gown and sat in her basin.

“Did he say what for?” she asked. Aravae shook her head.

“No, Milady. He was in the main hall along with Arl Howe’s men, those that have arrived, at any rate.”

Bryce and Howe’s men were to march to Ostagar to aide King Cailan in the battle against the Darkspawn and hopefully, end this Blight before it ever truly began. Howe only arrived with half of his regiment, however, the others should have been here by now. As Bridget finished washing and began to dress, she wondered where they could be.

“I’ll wear that dress tonight, Aravae. For now I will keep to my leggings and leather armor.”

Aravae smirked.

“You will do anything to be comfortable, you know that? Very well, I’ll leave this out for your birthday banquet later tonight. Good day, Milady.”

With that, she retrieved the now empty bucket of water and exited the room. Bridget threw her hair back in a makeshift bun and followed her out, hurrying down the steps and towards the main hall. Along her way, she found a few of her father’s men scattered about, some on their posts and others trying to get their things ready to head for battle. Upon entering the main hall, Bridget saw her father and Howe speaking in the distance as well as many of Howe’s men standing about, sharpening their swords or engaged in conversation with a few of Bryce’s soldiers.

“Ah pup, there you are. Happy birthday, my dear girl.” Bryce stated as Bridget approached him.

She hugged him tightly.

“Thank you, Father.” She replied.

Howe smiled at her.

“Indeed, a happy birthday to you, my dear. My son, Thomas sends his regards.”

Bridget smiled at him and nodded her head. For years now, Howe had been vying for a marriage between one of his sons and Bridget to strengthen the ties between their families, however, Bridget was in no hurry to get married. Still, not wanting to be rude in front of her father, Bridget asked,

“I hope he is well?”

Howe nodded.

“Quite so. He can never stop speaking of your beauty.” He replied.

Bridget smiled at him briefly before returning her attention to her father.

“You wanted to see me?”

Bryce tucked a piece of his daughter’s hair behind her ear and nodded.

“Indeed. I need you to go and find your brother. He is to ride out to Ostagar tonight and inform the King of our delay.”

Bridget furrowed her brow.

“Why are your troops delayed, Arl Howe?” she asked.

Howe shook his head.

“Poor weather, I’m afraid. The rains have stalled them temporarily, but they should arrive soon. I am sure Arl Eamon has sent plenty of his men from Redcliffe, Bryce. Allow your son to stay for the festivities this evening. We may all ride together in the morning or afternoon when my men arrive.”

Bryce bowed his head to his friend.

“I am sure Fergus will not mind leaving early, besides, we have heard no word from Redcliffe at all, so it is better to be safe than risk the king having no troops.”

Howe pursed his lips together and placed his hands behind his back.

Bridget brightened.

“Father, you know I’m a faster rider than Fergus. Let me go to Ostagar and inform King Cailan of Arl Howe’s men. I can let him know and then wait there for you, and all three of us may go into battle together.” She stated.

Bryce placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and shook his head.

“Pup, you know I need you here. I’m entrusting the whole castle to you whilst I’m away. You’re supposed to remain here and reside over the men that I will leave with you, as well as take care of our citizens.”

Bridget frowned.

“But Father,”

Bryce shook his head.

“I can’t entrust this task with anyone else. Do you understand?”

Bridget sighed and nodded. Bryce smiled.

“Good. Now, go and find your brother and relay this news. I will see you at your banquet tonight.”

With that, Bryce kissed her forehead and immediately returned his attention to Howe. They both resumed the conversation they were having earlier. Bridget walked out of the main hall and clenched her fists. She didn’t understand her father. Why search for one of the best swordsmen in Thedas, have him train her for a full decade, and then still keep her from fighting in any real battles?

“How does he expect me to test these skills I’ve mastered over the years if all I do is stay here and watch over things?” she asked herself.

Bridget made her way to the armory were Percival was. She knew he would make her feel better. As Bridget turned the corner and entered the armory, she stopped short as she bumped into someone exiting.

“Forgive me, Sir.” She stated.

The man that she walked into smiled kindly at her. Bridget did not recognize him. He had ravenous black hair and a beard to match and very kind, deep brown eyes. He was dressed smartly, but was ready for trouble, as Bridget had noted the swords hanging at his sides.

“Forgive me, Milady.” He replied. Percival approached them both and smiled.

“Ah Bridget, good morning. I see you have met my friend, Duncan.” He stated.

Bridget furrowed her brow.

“Err, yes. Ran into him is more like it, though.”

Duncan chuckled.

“It’s quite alright, Milady. Allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens. Your father invited me here today to look for some recruits. I stopped by the armory in search of a Ser Gilmore, but ran into Ser Percival instead.”

Bridget blinked.

“The Grey Wardens?” she asked.

Bridget raised her eyebrows. As a child, her nanny had told her numerous tales of the brave Grey Wardens and how they were fierce protectors of Thedas, ridding the land of the vile Darkspawn whenever they resurfaced, how they slayed monstrous dragons, and how they rode on the backs of griffons. Bridget tried her hardest to contain herself. But it was very hard not to. Duncan was representing the very order she dreamed of as a child. She revered the Wardens as mighty heroes whose duty was to protect the land and all those who lived on it. Wardens held no prejudices, they allowed anyone to join be it dwarf, elf, human, man, or even woman. As someone who was constantly laughed at by outsiders for the path she had chosen in becoming a warrior, the Wardens were like a safe haven to Bridget’s young mind. As she got older, she realized that you had to have a certain skill set in order to join this sacred order. She was sure that with as hard and as much as her father’s men trained, Duncan would surely find a few recruits.

“I see. Pardon my surprise. It’s just, Wardens were my childhood heroes. I was told many stories as a young girl of your order and the prowess of those who were lucky enough to join. Forgive my childlike giddiness when I say that it is a true honor to meet someone who is actually a part of the order of the very tales I was once told.”

Duncan smiled and chuckled.

“It is quite alright. I will say, out of all the men your father has, you are actually the strongest candidate, Milady.”

Bridget raised her eyebrows, but bowed her head quickly.

“It is an honor to hear you say that, Ser, but I believe you are mistaken. I have never truly been in a real fight, all those that I have partaken in have been mock battles to train. I have trained for ten years of my life on how to kill my enemy, yet I have never actually killed anything. Tis hard to kill something that you do not have.”

Duncan nodded.

“If only I could say the same, Milady. Still, you are a very skilled swordswoman. I would be honored to have you join our Order.”

Before Bridget could answer, Percival cut in.

“Good luck with that, my friend. Unless you plan on using the Right of Conscription, Bryce would never allow it.”

Duncan nodded.

“Oh yes, I know. I wouldn’t want to risk angering a Teyrn, especially when the Wardens have so few friends as it is. I must go and speak with the other men, good day, Percival. Milady.”

With that, Duncan bowed slightly and exited the room. Bridget turned back to Percival and crossed her arms.

“You certainly have friends in high places.” She stated.

Percival threw his head back and laughed.

“Ha! Depends on who you talk to. So, what brings you here to see me today? I told you we wouldn’t train, it’s your birthday. I can at least give you this day off if no other.” He said as he propped himself up against the stone wall and crossed his arms.

Bridget shrugged.

“Yes, I know. I want your opinion on something though.”

Percival raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? You so rarely come to me asking for that of all things, what’s on your mind?”

Bridget walked over to the nearby table and sat on it. She looked at Percival and drew her brows together.

“Again, Father is keeping me here whilst he and Fergus go and fight in battle. What is the point of me studying swordplay if all he wants me to do is keep his seat warm while he’s off having real fun?”

Percival looked at her.

“Battle is never fun, little bird. Exhilarating, yes. But never fun. Have you expressed your wishes to your father?”

Bridget nodded.

“Yes. But he just says the same thing each time. ‘I need you here,’ ‘There’s no one else I entrust more with this task,’”

Percival sighed.

“It is important that he does trust you enough with this task though, little bird. There are some _kings_ who do not even trust their children. He is only doing this to protect you.”

Bridget rolled her eyes and slid off the table.

“I can protect myself. You have taught me how to do so for ten years.” Percival shook his head.

“Yet there is still always something new to learn. Come, I think I have something that will cheer you up. No one should frown on their birthday, after all.”

Bridget followed Percival further into the armory where an ornate box sat atop a long table. The window in front of the table spilled bright sunlight out into the room, and illuminated the wooden box. Bridget ran her hands over the box as Percival moved to stand behind the table. It was smooth beneath her fingertips. Carved into it were many swirls and designs, Bridget guessed that they were Orlesian.

“Go on, open it up.” Percival urged.

She unhooked the latches to the box and lifted the lid. Inside laid a very decorative sword, one very similar to Percival’s. The handle was made of pure silver and was designed in such a way, that the hilt of it was a dragon’s head and the handle itself was his body. The blade itself was very fine. Bridget picked it up carefully and inspected it closely. It was made of the finest steel and glinted brightly in the sunlight. She turned to Percival and raised an eyebrow.

“This is for me?” she asked in surprise. Percival smiled at her and nodded. “Indeed. I remember you asking me as a child when you would get to wield a ‘real’ blade. The sword you have now is good enough for any knight or warrior, but this sword, _Patience et Persévérance_ , is specifically made for you. I have studied your combat tactics these past ten years and had this blade crafted to best suit your strengths.”

Bridget grinned and looked at Percival. He handed her the scabbard that was also made for her and she placed the blade in it carefully. She then hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for this, Ser. And for all you have taught me. Do you think I can best you in combat with this blade?”

Percival hugged her back tightly and chuckled. He pulled away and stared at his young pupil.

“Well, we can certainly find out, if you so wish?”

Before Bridget could answer, she heard footsteps behind her. Ser Gilmore emerged out of the shadows.

“Beg pardon, Milady. I’ve been sent to find you immediately. Your hound he…he’s gotten into the larder again and Nan has all but physically damaged anyone in the kitchens. She requests that you come and retrieve him at once.”

Bridget rolled her eyes.

“Ugh Zeus can never stay in one place for more than five minutes. Very well, Gilmore. Let’s go before Nan actually hurts someone.”

Gilmore nodded and turned to leave but Percival cut in.

“If I may just have a few more moments of your time, Milady? There is something I wish to tell you.”

Bridget nodded.

“I’ll be waiting outside.” Gilmore stated as he left.

Bridget looked at Percival.

“What did you wish to tell me?”

Percival cast his eyes over his young pupil and remembered the day he first saw her; a stubborn, but determined child who was willing to do any and everything to prove her worth. He had watched her grow up from that stubborn child into a beautiful, intelligent, strong young woman. Yet something did not sit well with him. Often times, old warriors could sense when there was trouble or danger near, and Percival had had the growing suspicion deep within him that something dark was brewing. He felt the need to pass on a very vital piece of information to Bridget, one that he believed, would possibly save her life one day. He placed his hands on her shoulders and became serious.

“I want you to know this, in case you may ever need it. There are times when our enemy may best us. There are times when we will be beaten, times where we may be imprisoned, times where we may find ourselves weaponless and bound. If you ever find yourself in a situation like this, I want you to remember one thing: just because you may be void of your blade and daggers, that does not mean you are defenseless. You have another, very powerful weapon. Something that cannot be taken away from you unless your enemy had a great amount of patience.”

Bridget furrowed her brow.

“What is this weapon?” Bridget asked slowly.

Percival moved his mouth to reveal his teeth, and opened his mouth and closed it quickly so that his upper teeth clashed against his bottom ones.

“Your teeth, little bird. In certain circumstances, they can be just as lethal as any sword or dagger. If you ever find yourself bound, bruised, and beaten…just remember that you are not. That you can escape and that you will escape.”

Bridget drew her brows together.

“Why tell me this, Ser?” she asked softly.

Normally, Percival would have withheld his feelings of uneasiness from his pupil. However, because it was such a strong feeling, he felt that she should know.

“I am in my sixth decade on this world, little bird. Once you reach a certain age…you can begin to feel things, deep in your bones. I’m not talking about the pains of aging, either. I sense that there is something coming. Be it another Blight or something else. Whatever it is, I want you to be prepared for anything. You are not one to overestimate your own abilities. You are smart enough to realize that there are other warriors out there who are better than you, who are bigger than you. Not everyone you meet will be an ally. Some of them will hurt you and capture you. In case that happens, I just want you to know how to get out of that situation, or at least how to try to get out of that situation. If I feel that we need to address this further, when we practice again, I will tie your hands behind your back and we will practice getting you out of such compromises. I want you prepared for anything, little bird. Hopefully, my intuition is wrong…but I do not know. The winds are changing and I just feel very wary of what may come.”

Bridget took in Percival’s words and nodded slowly. She too felt a certain change in the air. No one knew what was going on with the Darkspawn. Was Thedas truly on the brink of another Blight? Or was this just a random horde that had escaped the Deep Roads? Whatever it was, the threat was real enough since the king was calling for troops.

“I will remember your words, Ser. Thank you.”

Percival smiled at her, squeezed her shoulders gently, and then released her.

“Let us hope that you will not have to use them in a real situation. Go and fetch your hound now, before Nan gets too angry and ends up burning your banquet’s meals tonight, eh? We will test that blade tomorrow, first thing.”

Bridget nodded.

“Aye, Ser.” She turned and left the armory, finding Gilmore waiting patiently for her back outside.

“I’m very sorry to bother you with this, Milady, but your hound listens to no one but you.”

Bridget chuckled.

“That dog is too smart for his own good sometimes. How have you been, Gilmore? I haven’t seen much of you in a while.”

Gilmore smiled down at her. Everyone seemed to get a growth spurt but Bridget. Whereas she used to be nearly as tall as both Willem and Gilmore when they were younger, they both stood a head and a half higher than her now.

“I’ve been well, Milady. May I ask you something though?”

Bridget nodded.

“Of course.” She said as they turned the corner and headed towards the kitchens.

“Is it true that there is a Grey Warden here today? Looking for recruits?” he asked eagerly.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

“You didn’t know either? Good, I don’t feel as left out now. Yes, he is here. In fact, he mentioned he was looking for you earlier when I ran into him and Ser Percival.”

Gilmore’s eyes widened.

“Looking for me? Does he mean to test me? To recruit me?”

Bridget nodded.

“Yes, I believe so. He mentioned you by name so that must mean something.” She stated.

Gilmore grinned.

“That would be such an honor, to be a Grey Warden I…I’ve dreamt of it ever since I was a boy. What about you, Milady? Surely if Duncan has me in mind, you must be his first choice. You are drastically better with a sword than I am.”

Bridget shook her head.

“Nonsense, Gilmore. You are just as skilled as I. Besides, there is no way father would allow his only daughter to join them.”

Gilmore looked at her and laughed.

“You know you are far better than I, Milady. But I am flattered nonetheless that you find my skills in somewhat of a comparison to yours. I thank you.”

As they turned another corner, Bridget could hear Nan yelling in the distance. She bit her lip and laughed lightly.

“Let’s get on before Nan starts throwing knives.”

As she and Gilmore entered the kitchens, Nan had her back to them as she was yelling at two of the elven staff.

“You two are absolute rubbish! Don’t you know how to cook anything? We’ve got to get all these men fed as well as a fancy meal for the Teryn and his daughter to celebrate her birthday and him going into battle. You mess one thing up and it’ll be me that gets the ear full, not you!”

“Nan, please calm down.” Bridget said as she approached the volatile old woman.

Nan whipped around and stared at both her and Gilmore. She narrowed her eyes.

“It’s about bloody time you two got here. Go get that filthy mongrel out of my larder before he eats the meat for tonight! Then we’ll all just have to have broth and I will not be responsible for sending these men to bed without a proper meal!” Bridget nodded. “Relax, Nan. Zeus doesn’t like raw meat anyway.” She said as she and Gilmore made their way to the larder.

She opened the door and found her mabari hound pacing back and forth and sniffing the ground.

“Zeus, how many times have I told you to not bother Nan? Let’s get you out of here.”

But Zeus barked and ran to the other side of the larder where he growled and barked again. He then knocked over a bag of flower and revealed three very large rats eating away. Gilmore stepped into the room and made quick work of the rats, as did Zeus. He then picked one up in his mouth, trotted outside proudly, and placed the rat at Nan’s foot. “And what in the Maker’s name am I supposed to do with this? Hmm? Cook it up into a stew?” Bridget followed Zeus out as Gilmore checked for more rats and dealt with any he saw.

“These rats are huge! Where did they come from?” Bridget asked.

Gilmore emerged from the larder, wiping off his blade.

“My guess is the Wilds. It’s funny, every epic tale my grandfather used to tell me started off with giant rats. They’re supposed to be an omen of some sort.”

Nan rolled her eyes.

“Oh hogwash. You two, the dog’s out now, get back in there and start bringing out all the ingredients will you?”

“B-but the rats…”

Gilmore smiled at the two young elves.

“No need to worry, I’ve taken care of them. I must be off to the main hall now, Milady. Good day to you and a very merry birthday as well.”

Gilmore left. Nan looked at Bridget and crossed her arms.

“You better enjoy this meal I’ve been slaving over all day.” She stated.

Bridget smiled.

“I’m sure I will, Nan. I have to go and find Fergus now.”

Nan nodded.

“Good, the less people here, the better. Keep an eye on that mangy mutt from now on will you? And here, don’t say Nan never gives you anything.” She said as she gave Zeus some scraps of meat. He barked happily.

Bridget bid her old nanny farewell as she and Zeus left the kitchens. Together, they turned the corner and made their way down the hall before Bridget ran into her mother and sister-in-law. Bridget could immediately tell something was…different between the two of them. They were both grinning widely after wishing Bridget a happy birthday.

“Something I should know about?” Bridget asked. Oriana drew her brows together. “I didn’t want to tell anyone, not yet, especially not today because this is your day, but…I am with child!”

Bridget’s eyes widened.

“Oriana, that’s wonderful news! Congratulations!” she said as she hugged her tightly.

Oriana and Fergus wanted nothing more than to have a child and, five years ago, the Maker blessed them with Bridget’s nephew, Oren. Oriana had had a very difficult time becoming pregnant, however, and suffered many miscarriages before she was able to have Oren. The midwife that delivered him wasn’t sure if Oriana would be able to have any other children, but apparently, he was wrong.

“Have you told Fergus yet?” Eleanor asked.

Oriana shook her head.

“No, not yet. I do not want him worrying about me whilst he is away. I’m going to tell him as soon as he returns home. I didn’t want to make a big announcement about it on your birthday,”

Bridget shook her head.

“Oriana, this is absolutely wonderful, you shouldn’t feel the need to hide it on account that it’s my birthday. I am very happy for you, and I know Fergus is going to be overjoyed when you tell him!”

Oriana smiled.

“Yes, I think so too!” she laughed.

Eleanor turned to Bridget.

“Now if you would just get married and have a child, I would finally be completely content! You can’t let Oriana do all the work here, Bridget.”

Bridget rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps someday, Mother, but no time soon, I can assure you of that.”

Oriana turned to leave.

“I’m going to find Fergus and Oren. Last I left them, he handed Oren a wooden sword. I should go make sure the child hasn’t broken anything. I will see you both later.”

Bridget turned her attention back to her mother and sighed.

“Father wants me to find Fergus and tell him to ride out ahead of him tonight. Arl Howe’s troops have been delayed due to the rains. He and father will file out to Ostagar tomorrow morning or afternoon as soon as they arrive.”

Eleanor frowned.

“Howe knew of the King’s wish for troops, he should have sent them out earlier. I do not understand why men believe they must ride into an encampment at the same time. Whether it’s them reliving the ‘glory’ days or not, it’s ridiculous. So long as the men are there, that’s all that matters. You know I will be leaving in a few days myself to visit Lady Landra. Will you be alright here alone?”

Bridget drew her brows together.

“My place isn’t behind a desk listening to praise and complaints, Mother. It’s out there in the middle of battle. Why does father keep me here when I have trained for so long?”

Eleanor took Bridget’s hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

“I know it is hard remaining behind while others go, my dear. But it is for the best. I believe your father would rather you be in a battle against real men, not these dark creatures.”

Bridget sighed.

“I just want to prove myself, that’s all. I want to prove to all the others who have sneered at me and have questioned you and father for letting me choose this path. I also really don’t want you to go, Mother. Please, stay here with me and see Lady Landra some other time?”

Eleanor chuckled.

“Oh dear, it won’t be for long. I’m to return to her castle with her, as she has come for your banquet tonight. It is not very often in which I get to see my friend.”

Bridget nodded.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked that of you. But part of me can’t help but worry. What happens if father,”

Eleanor shook her head.

“We will not speak of such things. Not until we have a need to address them.” Her mother said quickly.

Bridget looked at her mother. She understood why she didn’t want to think of the worst, but knew very well that things could go awry on the battlefield. Regardless, she didn’t continue the conversation and walked past her mother.

“I need to go and tell Fergus about the change in plans. I’ll see you in the dining hall soon.” She stated.

Eleanor nodded.

“Do make sure to wear something nice this evening. I love you my darling girl.”

Bridget smiled.

“I love you too, Mother.”

Bridget followed in Oriana’s wake and climbed the staircase. She entered the hall that carried her brother’s bedchambers as well as her own and her parents’. Bridget heard Fergus before she ever reached his door. She entered his room and smiled at him playing with his son.

“When can I get a real swoard, Papa?” Oren asked. Fergus knelt down in front of him and chuckled.

“That’s ‘sword’, Oren. And don’t you worry. You’ll get to see a real sword up close very soon. I’ll bring you back one, I promise.”

Oren brightened as he hugged his father and then went back to playing with his two wooden soldiers. Fergus stood and looked over at Bridget.

“Ah, baby sister. Still haven’t learned to knock, have you?” he joked.

Bridget crossed her arms.

“The door was clearly open, Fergus. Besides, I think I learned my lesson that one time I caught you and Oriana when I was twelve. I bring news: father wishes for you to ride out tonight ahead of him.”

Fergus raised his eyebrows.

“So the Arl’s men are delayed. Hmm…this could complicate matters. I should probably be on my way now.”

Bridget shook her head.

“No, Father said you could stay for the feast tonight.” She stated.

Fergus looked at her.

“A lot of clouds have gathered in the sky since this morning, Bridget. I should really head off before it begins to rain.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Bridget turned to see Bryce and Eleanor enter the room. Eleanor hugged Fergus tightly.

“Ride fast, Fergus. Send us a bird when you get there so that I won’t worry?”

Fergus chuckled.

“Of course I will, Mother. Need not worry over me.”

Bryce hugged him next, as did Oren and Oriana.

“Be safe, my husband. Please be safe.”

Fergus kissed her gently and pulled away.

“You know me, love. I’m always one for safety.”

She handed him his pack which Fergus threw over his shoulder. He turned to Bridget next and looked at her.

“Good luck running the castle while I’m gone. You’re going to be so _lost_ without my guidance.”

Bridget punched him in the arm.

“Have fun sleeping out in the cold, and in the rain.” She quipped.

Fergus chuckled.

“Ha, you’re right. I actually wouldn’t mind if our positions were switched, to be honest. Regardless, try to keep things in shape around here. I’d hate to return to a burned down castle.”

Bridget tipped her head to the side.

“Have you no faith in me at all? In all seriousness though…please be safe.”

Fergus smiled and kissed his sister on her forehead.

“Always am. You be safe too.”

He took one last look at his family before turning on his heel and heading out. Bridget drew her brows together and said a prayer to the Maker to keep her brother safe. Yet an odd sensation swept over her…one where she felt as if she may not see her brother again. Bridget brushed it off as just nerves and worry for her brother’s safe arrival and thought no more of it. Bryce clapped his hands together.

“I believe it’s time we head to your banquet, my dear. We will see you in the dining hall.”

With that said, Bryce and the others left. Bridget made her way to her room as well to ready herself for her party. And quite a party it was. Nan was able to provide a splendid feast for everyone in attendance. Meat pies, potatoes, stew, freshly baked bread and numerous sweets from tarts to small cakes decorated the long table. There was much merriment and laughter as Bridget danced with her father, Howe, and even Percival. The old warrior was not only quick on his feet in the midst of battle, Bridget learned, as he danced an Orlesian Waltz with her. Her parents reminisced with Howe about times long past as everyone enjoyed the fine meal and dancing. As the night was winding down, Bridget felt the need for some fresh air. She stepped out onto the nearby balcony and was surprised to see Arl Howe outside. He quickly noticed her and put a smile on his face. Bridget, however, could see worry in his eyes.

“Is everything alright, Arl Howe?” she asked.

Howe nodded.

“Yes, my dear girl. I was just thinking about tomorrow.”

Bridget drew her brows together.

“It has been on my mind as well. I am sure that you and father both will return unscathed, but…I just want to wish you well. I am worried for you both, but I know that you would do anything to protect my father, and he you. I believe my worries will be put to an end knowing that you will do everything in your power to make sure that you and my father both are protected. Be safe.”

She surprised him by hugging him tightly. It took a moment for Howe to respond.

“I…thank you. I will do all I can to ensure his…protection.” He replied softy.

Bridget pulled back and smiled.

“I am sure that you will. I suppose I should head back inside, I think I hear mother calling me. It’s time for me to receive my parent’s gifts. Rest well tonight, Arl Howe. Once you and father return, we must have a celebration that is twice as large as this one.”

Howe nodded and said nothing more. Bridget reentered the dining hall and caught Willem’s eyes with hers as she made her way towards the head of the table. He traveled his eyes down the curves of her body, taking in the rare sight of her in a dress. It was blue in color and clung to her figure in a way that accentuated her assets, but still left much to the imagination. The dress itself was made out of the finest silk from Antiva. Bridget winked at Willem as she passed by him and smiled as she heard his soft chuckle. As Bridget reached her parents, Bryce and Eleanor stood so that the guests would have their full attention. Eleanor held out her hand for Bridget, who took it gently in hers and stood next to her.

“As you all know, my daughter is not a traditional lady. Instead of learning how to sing and to sew, she wanted a sword and a shield in her hands. She has trained remarkably hard for the past ten years, and I believe it is time I reward her efforts. I am told that Ser Percival has already bestowed one gift to you, my dear. But I have another.”

Bryce snapped his fingers and two of his banner men entered the room. One carried a very elongated box, similar to the box that Percival had presented to her earlier, but instead of the fancy swirls carved into it, this one was baring the Cousland insignia. The other man was also carrying a box that was identical to that one, save for the shape. This box was large and rectangular. Both men approached Bridget and bowed their heads as they presented her the boxes. Bryce walked towards them and lifted the lid of the first box.

“I wish to give you my sword, Bridget. This sword has been in our family for quite some time, since your great grandfather. It is effective and made out of the finest steel. With it, I also present you our family shield,”

Bryce said as he removed the lid of the next box. It, too was made of the strongest steel in Ferelden and bared the Cousland insignia. Bryce turned to look at his daughter, who had tears in her eyes.

“You have worked so hard, pup. You have truly earned these two weapons. Wield them proudly. Wield them well.” Bridget threw her arms around her father and hugged him tightly as their guests cheered.

“Thank you, father. But do you not need your sword for the battle at Ostagar?”

Bryce chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I do not. I have had a new one crafted that will suit me just fine. It is time I pass this on to you, my dear. You have shown great prowess and determination. I could not be more proud of you.”

Bridget smiled.

“This is the greatest honor. Thank you.”

Eleanor then stepped forward holding a much smaller box. She smiled at her daughter and said,

“I may not have always approved of you spending your days outside in the harsh weather, beating a straw practice target, but I am equally as proud of you as your father is. I wish to give you this, my dear. This was the first gift your father ever gave me. I wish for you to have it. When you look at it, I want you to remember our love for each other, and our love for you and our family.”

Eleanor handed her gift to Bridget. She opened it and gazed at the ring that lay inside. The band was made of pure silver and carried a beautiful sapphire stone. Bridget picked it up and slid it on her middle finger of her left hand.

“Thank you for this, mother. I shall cherish it forever.” Bridget stated as she hugged her mother.

Eleanor hugged her back and felt tears brim her eyes. When Bridget pulled away, she turned to address the other guests. Duncan smiled at her and bowed his head whereas Lady Landra and her son, Dairren, lifted their glasses to drink in her honor.

“Thank you all for attending this banquet not only to celebrate my two decades the Maker blessed me, but to also wish my father, Arl Howe, and their men a safe journey to the ruins of Ostagar. May they fight these dark creatures fiercely and return to us and their families unscathed, unharmed, and unbroken.”

The guests cheered happily in agreement. They each then began to bid their farewells. Once everyone filed out to either leave or return to their rooms, Bridget bid her parents both a good night.

“Please be careful tomorrow, Father. I will miss you.”

Bryce stroked his daughter’s hair and chuckled.

“Fear not, Pup. I will not be gone for long. But I will miss you too. I will look forward to returning and seeing your smiling face…both of your smiling faces.” He said as he hugged Eleanor as well.

“Let us head off to bed, Bryce. You need all the sleep you can get.”

She stated. Bryce shook his head.

“I’ll be up in a bit, my love. Rendon and I must speak about a few things first. I will not be long.”

Bridget and Eleanor watched him leave the room. Eleanor took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Well, I am off to bed. You should go too, you have a very busy day ahead of you in the morning. Goodnight, my dear.”

Bridget nodded in agreement. In truth, she was exhausted, although she hadn’t forgotten Willem’s promise to come and see her. Once she was back in her room, she dressed into her night shift and waited for him. The minutes ticked by and with each passing one, Bridget grew more tired. Zeus had already curled himself up at the foot of her bed and was sleeping soundly. Bridget felt her eyelids grow heavy and just as she was about to drift into the Fade…she heard Zeus growl. Bridget drew her brows together and rubbed her eyes.

“Zeus, what is it?” she asked softly.

As Bridget’s eyes focused to the darkness of the room, she noticed Zeus clawing at her door and growling menacingly. Bridget swiftly got out of bed and grabbed one of her daggers. She heard movement outside her door and noticed a figure was standing outside of it as it partially blocked out the light from the hanging torches outside. Something in Bridget’s gut told her it wasn’t Willem who was outside her door. And she was right. Not even a moment later, the intruder rammed her door with his shoulder and broke into her room. Bridget was briefly surprised before Zeus jumped into action and bit the intruder in the leg. He howled in pain, alerting his partner in the process. Since Zeus was still trying to protect his mistress from one man, he couldn’t go after the other. He swung his broadsword at Bridget, but she dodged quickly. For a brief second, she was scared. She had never been in a situation like this before. Training scenarios yes, but her sparring partners never came at her to kill her. But this man…

Bridget could see it in his eyes. He intended to slit her throat and think nothing more of it. She gripped her small dagger tightly in her hand and charged towards him. She side stepped his swing and buried her dagger in the side of his neck. Bridget pulled it out quickly and felt his warm blood coat her hand. She turned and kicked the other intruder in the head, as he had been thrown to the ground by Zeus. Bridget quickly dressed and grabbed her father’s sword and shield. She then made sure _Patience et Persévérance_ was placed securely in it’s scabbard. After sheathing her two daggers, she bent over the man she stabbed and swallowed. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was close. His blood was seeping across the stone floor, delving into the cracks. His body was twitching slightly until he moved no longer. Bridget stared down at him. She had killed a man. Taken the most precious thing away from him. Bridget didn’t know what she was supposed to feel. She didn’t feel sorry for him because he had tried to take her life as well. Instead, she bent down and rolled him over. Bridget’s eyes widened as she noticed the insignia emblazoned on his small wooden shield.

“That is Arl Howe’s sigil. But…I don’t understand…”

Bridget heard footsteps again and quickly stood and drew her blade. Her mother ran into her room, bow at the ready and sighed, relieved that Bridget was unharmed. Bridget lowered her sword. She ran towards her and hugged her tightly.

“Thank the Maker you’re alright.” Eleanor said as she held her daughter close.

Bridget pulled away and shook her head.

“Mother, these are Howe’s men. Where is Father?”

Eleanor shook her head.

“I do not know, he never came to bed. I do know that I will kill Howe myself. We need to go and find your father, now!” she said frantically.

Bridget’s eyes widened.

“Mother, what about Oriana and Oren?”

Bridget noticed the color in her mother’s face drain.

“What if they went to your brother’s room first?”

Bridget gripped her father’s sword and hurried out of the room with Zeus at her heels. She ran across the hall and threw open the door to Fergus’s room. Another man came up the stairs just as Bridget made it to the door. Her mother engaged him in combat so she could rescue Oriana and Oren…but she was too late. Bridget felt her blood turn to ice as she witnessed the carnage in front of her. Oriana was being stabbed repeatedly in her stomach. Bridget turned to the side to find Oren cowering in the corner. She grabbed him and blocked the blow that Oriana’s attacker threw at her. Oren was screaming and crying.

“When I tell you to run, you run, Oren! Mother is outside, you run to her and you stay with her!” Bridget shouted.

She returned her attention to her attacker and rammed him with her shield.

“Go now!” she shouted as she raised her blade and thrust it into his chest. Howe’s guard coughed up blood as Bridget pulled her blade out. Bridget turned around to follow Oren, but stopped abruptly as she noticed he was in the arms of another one of Howe’s men. Her mother was in the back, fighting off another attacker. Zeus leapt forward and pounced on the man that was attacking Eleanor, biting him deeply in the side of his neck. Before Bridget or her mother could do anything, the guard holding Oren slit his throat and then pushed his body away from him as if he were a disgusting creature, not an innocent child. Bridget cried as she ran forward, dropping her father’s sword and pulling out one of her daggers.

The large man was too slow to block her and she knocked him to the ground. Straddling him, she stabbed him repeatedly in his chest, scattering his blood all over her face, clothes, and the floor. Bridget could hear her mother’s cries as she ran to her grandson and cradled him in her arms. Bridget stabbed the man that killed her nephew one final time, twisted her dagger in him, and then slowly pulled it out. She then looked over her shoulder at her mother, who was shaking with anger and sadness.

“My boy…my precious, sweet baby boy…” she whispered softly as she brushed his dark hair, the same shade as Fergus’s, out of his cold, dead eyes.

Bridget stood and walked over to her mother. She fell to her knees and said,

“I did this. I told him to run, I didn’t know that another guard had come up the stairs…I _drove_ him to his death!”

Eleanor looked up at Bridget and shook her head. She placed her bloodied hand to the side of her daughter’s face and said,

“No. Do not blame yourself for this. You could not have known. Howe isn’t taking any hostages…he means to kill us all! That _bastard_. Come, we must find your father.”

Eleanor laid Oren gently down on the ground and swallowed. Bridget picked up her sword and shield once again. Zeus stood by his mistress’s side and together, all three of them descended the staircase. The scene downstairs was no different than upstairs. Bodies of both Howe’s traitorous guards as well as some of Bryce’s men scattered the halls. The air was thick with smoke as the castle was burning. Along the way to the main hall, Bridget ran into some of her father’s men. They helped her and her mother dispatch any of Howe’s guards that they ran into along the way. As they finally made it to the main hall, Bridget found Percival, Willem, and Gilmore engaged in battle while five other guards were trying to keep the main doors closed. Bridget, Eleanor, and Zeus. There was a mage present that was causing all sorts of problems. Bridget decided to go for him first, yet when she tried to attack him, he conjured a protective field around him. She knew it eventually had to go away, after all, magic is never constant. Mages run out of their powers just as warriors run out of their stamina. The moment the mage faltered from lack of strength, Bridget charged. She ran him through with her blade and bashed him with her shield for good measure.

With the mage out of the way, the rest of the battle continued. Bridget helped Gilmore take on a dual weapon rogue and wasn’t able to evade him fast enough. He cut her arm with his dagger. Bridget winced in pain, but continued to fight on, despite the fact that she could feel her blood coating her arm. Once their enemies lay dead, they regrouped in the middle of the room. Willem quickly tried to bandage Bridget’s arm and did so, bit it was bandaged poorly and would not last long. For now however, it would do.

“Have you seen Bryce?” Eleanor asked worriedly.

Percival nodded.

“Yes, he said he was going to try and escape through the servant’s entrance in the kitchen. He looks bad though, Milady. You must hurry. Willem, Gilmore and I along with the rest of the men here will try to bar the door, but we do not possess the strength of oxen. They will break it. You must hurry, go now!” he stated.

Eleanor nodded and hurried away. Bridget threw her arms around Willem and kissed him deeply.

“Get to safety, Bridget. And know that no matter what happens here…I love you and you have been the greatest joy in my life.” He said as she pulled away.

Bridget fought back her tears as she hugged Percival next.

“Go, little bird. I will not let them take you or your family. Go. Be swift like the wind and hard like the stone. And remember what I said so long ago: keep your emotions intact while you fight your battles. It is only after you win in which you mourn or celebrate.”

Bridget nodded. Gilmore had already ran back to the door. Percival and Willem followed him. She caught up with her mother and Zeus and together, they barged into the kitchens. Nan and her elven helpers lay slain against the cold stone floor. Bridget noticed Nan was gripping a kitchen knife in her hand and was comforted by the fact that her nanny didn’t go down without a fight. Eleanor opened the door that led to a small room near the servant’s exit.

“Bryce!” she gasped.

Bridget ran in behind her, followed by Zeus. Bridget’s eyes widened. Her father lay in front of her eyes, bloodied and beaten. Blood coated his finery, and more was slowly spilling out of him where he lay. Eleanor ran to his side and held his hand.

“My loves…thank the Maker you are both alright.” Bryce said.

His voice was weak and he was so, so pale. Bridget knelt down by her mother.

“Come father, we must go. Mother and I will help you stand. We must get you out of here!”

Bryce shook his head.

“No Pup I…ack…I do not believe I will survive the standing…”

Eleanor drew her brows together and squeezed her husband’s hand.

“Howe did this, my love. He’s betrayed us all. Slaughtered us all…but not you, not me, and not our daughter. Come now, we can get you healing magic. But you must stand, we must leave before they break down the gates!”

“Then you will need to move quickly.”

Bridget looked over her shoulder to see a bloodied Duncan stepping into the room. Bridget sighed in relief.

“I am glad you’re okay, Duncan. Please help us move my father, he will not listen to us!”

Bryce shook his head.

“There is no hope for me. Duncan, _please_ …take my wife and daughter to Ostagar. Take them to Fergus and tell him what has happened here. Please do this for me, I ask you as a friend.”

Duncan stared down at Bryce and sighed.

“I will do this, but I am compelled to ask for something else in return.”

Bridget cut her eyes at Duncan. Before she could say anything, he continued.

“The Darkspawn that are stirring in the Korcari Wilds are but a fraction of what is to come. The impending Blight sent me here in search of a recruit. The fate of Ferelden demands that I leave with one.” He said as he turned his gaze to Bridget.

Bryce winced and nodded.

“I…I understand.”

Bridget shook her head.

“No! We can still get you help, Father! Please just stand up, Duncan can carry you if he has to, I won’t just leave you here!”

Bryce took Bridget’s hand and held it in his as best as he could.

“Bridget, listen to me. You have always wanted to fight in battle…and I have always held you back. This is your chance. Fight for me, fight for us!” Bridget felt her lip quiver.

“But father…”

In the distance, she could hear the sound of the gates giving way and heard the battle cries of what remained of her father’s men.

“Darling, go with Duncan. I will only slow you down. I will stay here with your father…and die with him just as I promised him I would in our vows.”

Bridget shook her head.

“No, I can’t lose both of you! Please don’t make me do this!”

Bryce looked at her.

“Live for us, Bridget. Find your brother and with him, deliver Howe a justice that he deserves. And remember that we…we love you. You are everything I could have asked for in a daughter and so, so much more. I predicted when you were a child that you were destined for greatness…it is now time for you to go and achieve the greatness that you seek.”

Bridget drew her brows together.

“But I don’t want to leave you…”

Eleanor pushed some of Bridget’s hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

“We will always be with you, darling. Now go, before it’s too late.”

Duncan pulled on Bridget’s shoulders to get her to stand. As she did, he took her face in his hands and looked her straight in the eye.

“Whatever you do, do not look back. Don’t do it. Do you understand?”

Bridget closed her eyes.

“I love you both, so much.” She said, her voice shaky.

Eleanor felt tears fall from her eyes.

“Then go and live, Bridget. Live the life you have always dreamed of, but one that we never let you experience. And know that we will be with you every step of the way.”

Bridget took a deep breath and nodded at Duncan. He took her hand in hers and together, with Zeus at her heels, they both ran out of the servant’s entrance. Bridget heeded Duncan’s words and did not look back, despite her urge to. She could hear the clashing of metal upon metal, steel upon steel. She could hear the cries of both her father’s men and Howe’s. She could smell ash and smoke in the air. But worst of all, she could smell death. As they ran down the path that led into town, Duncan ran to his horse and mounted it. He pulled Bridget atop it with him and thrashed the reigns. His horse galloped away, leaving behind a dusty trail of gravel. Zeus ran next to them keeping up. Bridget held onto Duncan tightly as they maneuvered through the town. Still Bridget did not look back. With each gallop the horse took, her guilt grew. Bridget and Duncan made it all the way to West Hill before his horse’s hoof got snagged on something and tripped.

Both Duncan and Bridget were flown off and each of them landed on the grassy ground hard. Duncan landed on his right shoulder and cursed loudly. He got up quickly and turned to calm his horse. He then ran to check on Bridget, as she was thrown father than him and found her standing already, facing the north. From atop the hill, Bridget could see Highever castle in the distance. Her castle…her home was burning brightly against the night sky. She could still hear the terrified screams echoing throughout the air. Bridget dropped to her hands and knees and released a scream that was so loud, so hurt, so unbelievably angry…nearby birds flew out of the trees in fright, and Duncan felt a chill run down his spine. Bridget cried out as she dug her hands deep into the ground. She felt the dirt force itself under her fingernails as she gripped the grass and mud tightly in her hands. She sobbed and cried and cursed Howe and his family.

“How dare you? How dare you take my family from me? I will see you _dead_ by my _hands_. I will stab you through your black heart and I will sever your head and shove it on a spike! Do you hear me, Rendon Howe? I _will_ kill you! If it is the last thing I do on this earth, I will kill you for what you have done! And if anyone, _anyone_ tries to stop me…I will kill them too.” She screamed.

Bridget looked down at her bloodied hands. They carried the blood of the men she had killed. Blood of her family she had left behind. She gritted her teeth and gripped the ground even harder. But then she remembered Percival’s words,

“ _…emotions tend to make people sloppy. Best to keep them in check when in battle, young one. Men make awful mistakes sometimes when in love or when they have suffered great losses. Don’t be one of those people that do._ ”

She had suffered a great loss, the loss of everything she had known and loved her whole life. She would never be the same after this, so she decided to apply Percival’s logic to her situation. Instead of letting her emotions get the best of her, she would cut them out completely. She would not feel, not just in battle, but outside of battle too. Bridget looked up back at her home burning in the distance. The cries were fading out as the ones producing them were being taken into the Maker’s hands. She vowed then and there to never feel again, to not let anyone get to close to her, to keep everyone at a distance because she did not know if they would stay. If the Maker deemed it so to take away her whole family in the span of a few hours, anyone else Bridget met could be taken from her within the blink of an eye.

Deciding then and there that she would not go through something like this again, Bridget wiped her eyes and stood. She could feel her warm heart turning hard as stone and cold as ice. She could feel the kindness in her soul give way to bitterness.

“How far are we from Ostagar?” Bridget asked.

Duncan raised his eyebrows. Even he could hear a change in Bridget’s voice. It lacked the warm softness it carried only hours ago and was now cold and unfeeling.

“If we ride now, we should arrive within the next day or two.”

Bridget turned to look at him. She looked quite intimidating. Her hair was matted and carried some blood in it. Blood and dirt coated her face and armor, and her crystal blue eyes were sharp.

“Do you think it is possible Fergus survived?”

Duncan walked towards her and removed his cloak. He placed it around her and pulled the hood over her head. He then rested his hands on her shoulders and sighed.

“It is possible, yes…but I cannot say for sure. We will know when we arrive. This, however, I do know. You are a strong, brave woman who has lost everything that she held dear to her…but you will get the revenge that you seek. I believe you will be one of the finest Grey Wardens our Order has seen. But I need you to remain focused. I know your need for vengeance is gripping you tightly, but I will need your help to fight the Darkspawn. If not…they will take us all.”

Bridget nodded.

“I am not so naïve as to let my quest for vengeance cloud my judgment, Duncan. It is simply my main goal. As I said I will kill anything that stands between me and running Howe through with my blade. I include Darkspawn in that statement. You have my sword, Duncan. I only hope that I can prove worthy to you and that I can make my father proud.”

Duncan lifted her chin so that he could look at her.

“You already have, Milady. You already have. You are the last of the Couslands. Let us see to it that no one forgets that name, shall we?”

Bridget took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She looked Duncan straight in the eye and said,

“Aye, ser.”

Duncan squeezed her shoulders. He mounted his horse as Bridget petted Zeus. She then took Duncan’s hand and swung her leg over the saddle. Bridget wrapped her arms around Duncan’s waist as they galloped away towards Ostagar. Howe didn’t know the fire he ignited within Bridget, nor did he know of her determination. She was coming for him. His days were numbered. Howe was under the impression that all the Couslands were dead…but this was obviously not true. Bridget lived. And she would not rest until his heart was on her blade and his head decorated the tip of a spike. As they continued to gallop into the night, Bridget didn’t look back. The image of her home burning would be forever imprinted in her mind. The screams and cries of those that died would forever ring in her ears…but she would avenge them. All of them. As Duncan said, Bridget was the last of the Couslands. It was her job to make sure no one forgot that sacred family name…and she would see to it that no one did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I had computer issues and school to attend to. But I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter! Thank you for reading and leaving kudos! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to those of you that read this! I hope to add a new chapter every one to two weeks. Thank you for taking the time to read and leaving kudos/comments!


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